


An Awful Man

by Amuscaria



Series: Dogs and birds [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuscaria/pseuds/Amuscaria
Summary: Sansa Stark plans her future with her new beautiful neighbour Joffrey Baratheon, but her other neigbour has some other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, I just needed a bit of harmless Sansan therapy. A modern AU, or at least as modern as I can get without injuring myself. Again, English is not my native language, I never actively use it and there's no one to correct my mistakes. But of course, if anybody seems to speak or act weirdly, it’s a grand artistic intention and it’s not at all caused by the lack of knowledge on my part. Not at all.

Sansa was so happy. The day was full of sunshine and warmth. Days in the North were never this beautiful. All days were cold and dark in the North. In the North Sansa had had no time for herself, there was no time for hobbies, social life or friends. She had spent her days studying, away from her peers, home educated by honourable septas. Her afternoons were dedicated to helping uncle Benjen and in the evenings she took care for her younger siblings. But here, in the pearl of Westeros, in picturesque King’s Landing, every day smelled of lemons and sounded of children’s laughter. Sansa would find real friends here, not like those dull miners, who were all her company’s employees and knew nothing about the world. She already had her lifelong best friend Jeyne Poole in King’s Landing, where Jeyne’s father worked as branch administrator for Sansa’s company. And Sansa would get other feminine, beautiful friends in stilettos and designer dresses, with whom she would speak about other things than work.

It was a perfect day. A perfect day to fall in love. Joffrey Baratheon himself would soon come over to Sansa’s flat. Not that she had invited him to her flat, of course not. He would come over to pick up some old magazines that had caught his mother’s attention and it was only polite to offer Joffrey tea on such occasion. Sansa had been ashamed at first when lady Cersei noticed her vintage collection of northern magazines, but then the queen of fashion said she could get some inspiration from them. Lady Cersei was so graceful! Her long reign in the most influential fashion magazine had always been a great inspiration to Sansa. Lady Cersei worked for her father’s media company just like Sansa had to work for her own family’s business, but Cersei managed to make a name for herself and found her own, unique success. Sansa wanted to be like her and she hoped they would become good friends one day. Or perhaps more. Sansa had dearly missed her deceased mother, she would love to have a close relationship with her mother-in-law. Lady Cersei was as beautiful as Joffrey and Joffrey was beautiful like a prince. Sansa’s prince. Sansa smiled at herself in the mirror. Their babies would have her blue eyes and Joffrey’s golden hair and together with grandma Cersei they would make one perfect family.

Sansa took care of everything. Her whole flat glistened with pristine cleanliness, she arranged her lush new plants, she even showered Lady. She was excited she had a chance to bake for someone new again, so she happily filled her kitchen with all her favourite buns, snacks and lemon cakes and many other things. Sansa’s lemon cakes were much better than those expensive ones she’d bought in the city. She had her mother’s recipe and Sansa’s mum had always the best recipes. Catelyn Stark would have been so happy to know that Sansa had found such a great man to be with. Catelyn Stark would have had some advice for her, too. She had always known what to do and Sansa felt sometimes a little lost without her mum. Mums were there to talk about men with their daughters. Uncles… uncles were not, no matter how kind they were.

When Joffrey appeared in her front door, he looked like a star. His hair was bleached platinum blonde and slicked back, he was wearing trousers full of fashionable holes and a real gold watch. He had some very manly tattoos on his arms, a lion and a large inscription that said BADASS. Sansa had never been this daring in her fashion choices, preferring more the old fashioned style, but she’d always admired stylish people.

“Will you come in?”

“Sure, mother says we should get to know each other better,” he stepped in.

“Oh, yes, I’ve thought the same,” Sansa beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll be neighbours now.”

It was stupid, it sounded stupid. Sansa blushed furiously. Why did she have to blush, what would Joffrey think about her? Sansa tried to think of something clever to say, she had always been great at small talk, but she felt too nervous to talk with the love of her life.

“I’m sorry, I received my plants and some other things only today, so I haven’t had enough time to tidy up yet,” Sansa excused herself, leading Joffrey into her spotless flat. “Would you perhaps like a cup of tea?”

“Tea?” 

“Yes,” Sansa smiled. She had brought to King’s Landing her mother’s old, exquisite tea set and she was always eager to show it off and teach southerners how to make proper tea. “My cousin has sent me my favourite tea, would you like to try it? I haven’t seen it here.”

“Tea is for children,” Joffrey said and Sansa’s face turned red. “But since you’re smiling so pretty, I’ll take it.”

Sansa’s smile brightened even more and she could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. Joffrey was so sweet to her! But he didn’t wait for her to tell him where to sit, instead he immediately made himself comfortable on a sofa. Sansa had thought they would have tea at her dining table, this was completely ruining her plans! 

“I’ll bring the tea,” she quickly disappeared into her kitchen. The moment of solitude helped her calm down a little and she quickly started filling the lower table with food. She soon covered every square inch of it with her own tasty creations, which gave her an immediate boost of confidence. She had always been an amazing host, she had nothing to be afraid of. 

“Would you mind if I let my dog in?” she asked politely. 

“I’d rather not see it. Mother says you have some beast of a dog.”

“Lady is a wolfdog, but she is very gentle, I assure you,” Sansa quickly explained. “She spends most of the day either on a walk with me or in the gardens of the company. She gets even more exercise than she needs.”

“Whatever, just keep her locked away from me.”

Sansa bit her lip. Joffrey obviously needed more time to get used to Lady, but it was understandable. Many people were wary of dogs, especially the bigger ones. Sansa just had to make sure to tell him a lot of stories about Lady so that he would learn to trust her. 

Sansa noticed she could still see the surface of the table, which was unacceptable. She promptly filled the gap with another salty snack and smiled victoriously. Her hospitability remained unrivalled.

Joffrey stared at the table, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. Was he impressed already? “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

“Expecting?”

“Who’s the food for?”

“Well… It’s only a little snack,” Sansa smiled modestly, finally managing to blush at the appropriate time. “I just wanted to try out the new oven.” 

“And this looks like some Wildling stuff,” Joffrey grimaced, poking into one bun.

“Yes, it’s my favourite recipe from my cousin’s fiancée, she’s a Free Folker! Try it, it’s so good!”

He quickly retracted his hand. “What-? Your cousin’s wasting himself on a Wildling?” 

“Oh, no, it’s no waste, Ygritte is amazing!” Sansa was delighted to share the news about the engagement. “I’m really happy there’ll be more girls in my family, I’m the oldest woman in my entire family, can you imagine?”

“So you’re not afraid to get some uneducated wild bitch into your family?” Joffrey asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

Sansa’s eyes widened at hearing such words. “Ygritte is not like that!”

“Really? Is she a Wildling with a degree?” Joffrey laughed.

Sansa frowned. “No, but she is very clever!”

“She sure is, if she bagged herself a Stark.”

Sansa found such words quite upsetting, but she also didn’t want to ruin the afternoon. She had to find a way to disagree politely and make Joffrey understand how wrong he was about Ygritte and the Free Folk. He had obviously never met any Free Folkers, it was Sansa’s responsibility to educate him. But what was the best way to do it? Sansa wanted her mother to be there and tell her what to do. She would know. She had always known.

Catelyn Stark had died in a plane crash along with Sansa’s father and older brother Robb when Sansa was only thirteen. And just like that Arya and Sansa became the only girls in the entire family. There was now nobody to give Sansa proper advices. The only relationship advice she had ever got was from uncle Benjen. Actually, it was more a command than an advice. Uncle Benjen ordered her to immediately report to him anyone who would ever dare to flirt with her. Uncle had also said that anybody who would ever touch Sansa would get to touch his fist as well. How very helpful for dating. Even Sansa’s cousin Jon served as an excellent man repeller and Sansa’s younger siblings took care of the rest. 

But that had been her life in the North, where Sansa had inherited Winterfell Copper, the largest mining company in the country. The entire region depended on Winterfell Copper and Sansa had to keep distance from her future employees. But now she was in the South and she could be just a girl again. After six crazy years the situation in the company was stable again and while Sansa was the sole owner, the company was in safe hands of uncle Benjen and Jon. She had five years. Five years of carefree youth and student life before she would take over the company for good. Winterfell Copper couldn’t be divided and Sansa as the oldest child therefore had to accept the responsibility for the entire company. As a thirteen year old girl she had dreamt of studying arts and creating her own charity organization. She wanted to become the fashionable lady of the magazines, she wanted to spread the good will around the world, charming everyone with her beauty and grace. But now she had to get an economy degree and run the mining company. She had to take Robb’s place. 

But those five years… she still had them and she would make a good use of them. She would find real love in that time, get married and perhaps even have her first child. And study. Study, too, of course. She would have the best grades. And perfect love. Oh, yes, she would finally get to wear her mother’s wedding veil! It was so long it would cascade from her head down to become one with the train of her dress. It would be perfect! Newspapers all around the world would report about the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. And bridegroom. There had already been a sparkle between Joffrey and her and Sansa could finally allow herself to enjoy her life. 

Everybody said she was beautiful, it would not be surprising for Joffrey to fall madly in love with her, would it? They were perfect for each other. Their fathers had grown up together like brothers, both Sansa and Joffrey lost them tragically and inherited their family businesses. Joffrey’s father, Robert Baratheon, had been the most prominent film producer and when he died tragically, Joffrey became a sole owner of the Baratheon Production Company. At his young age, Joffrey even bravely dealt with the lawsuits filed against him by his envious uncles. Nobody would ever understand Sansa so well as Joffrey. It was simply their fate to be together. 

They would make a beautiful family. Sansa loved her three younger siblings and she always happily took care of them, it even made her pain more bearable. But the pain was there and every evening, when the family sat at the table together, there was always emptiness sitting there with them, too. With Joffrey Sansa would create her own, normal family, free of sadness and tragedies. She would have a warm home to return to. She was young, but she wouldn’t mind marrying this young. She longed to have a complete family. Perhaps Joffrey would want to settle down soon, too, for the very same reasons. She just had to educate him about life in the North.

“Well, the Free Folk…”

Sansa was interrupted by the doorbell ringing in three urgent bursts. 

“So you are expecting someone after all?” Joffrey asked.

“No, no, I…”

A thud. Somebody was banging on her door! In the most expensive residential complex in Westeros there was someone banging on her door. How was it even possible?

Joffrey stared at her. “Won’t you open the door?”

“Yes, of course,” Sansa rushed to her door, afraid what she would find there. But to her surprise she saw only her another neighbour, Mr. Clegane. She had a great respect for the hero, but she had spoken with him only twice before and didn’t particularly wish to see him again.

“How are you, Mr. Clegane?” she greeted the huge man with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me what in the seven hells were you doing on your balcony fifteen minutes ago,” he barked out. He seemed angry and Sansa didn’t understand why.

“On a balcony?” Sansa blinked. “I guess… I… I was hanging my plants.”

“Yeah,” Clegane nodded, fuming. “On the seventh floor on a shaking ladder, have you completely lost your mind, girl?!”

“I assure you, Mr. Clegane, it was not shaking!” 

“That’s not the point!” he snarled. “You could have easily fallen down. Do you think that just because you chirp your courtesies like a little singing bird, you can grow wings, too?” 

“No, I truly knew what I was doing,” Sansa said in a small voice. “I always hang everything myself.”

“Well, the next time you need to do anything like that, you’ll ask me, do you understand?”

“But why?”

“Because I live across the hallway, who else would you want to ask?” he seemed genuinely surprised by her question.

“But I can do it myself, Mr. Clegane, I assure you!”

“And you can also kill yourself. I’m not discussing this with you, I’m just telling you, little bird. Well…” he scratched the back of his head. “Won’t you let me in?”

“Let you in?”

“Do you always parrot everything?” he rasped. “I’ve thought about your invitation a bit, so here I am.”

“Of course, I’m… I’m always happy to see you, Mr. Clegane, but I have a guest now…”

“I know. The more the merrier, isn’t it?” 

Sansa had invited Mr. Clegane? Well, when she introduced herself to her new neighbours, she had told everyone they were always welcome to stop by. She had said that. She had even been excessively friendly to Mr. Cleganeso that he wouldn’t notice how scared she was of him. But he had been so rude, she’d been sure he would never come. But now… now Mr. Clegane wanted to come in. And Joffrey was inside. 

“Here,” Clegane thrust a bouquet of delicate flowers into Sansa’s hand. “Some more useless weed for the little bird’s nest.”

He stepped into her flat, leaving his shoes on the shelf where Sansa kept her own shoes, instead of using the shelf clearly intended for her guests. And Sansa didn’t have slippers big enough for the man! But surprisingly, he didn’t think of slippers at all and proceeded inside without them.

Sansa bit her lip. She had indeed invited the man, she couldn’t refuse him now. This was awkward, this was so awkward! Was she blushing again? Yep, definitely blushing. Her entire body was probably blushing right now.

The man’s imposing figure filled the room. Clegane was so tall he had to duck when walking through each doorway, but it seemed to be already an automatic reflex for him. He was ridiculously huge and muscled and his size combined with his facials scars made him look more like a film villain than a real human being. Sansa was ashamed of it, but she couldn’t help but be scared of him. The man’s looks had gained a lot of media attention a couple of years prior, when Clegane served as a royal bodyguard and saved the king’s life during the violent riots. The perverse media fascination with the young man’s looks had been unforgivable. All newspapers praised the man’s bravery, while simultaneously trying to best each other at publishing more sensationalistic stories about him and taking more and more close-up photos. When Sansa attended a ball in King’s Landing, people there were pitying him, while telling horrible things about his looks. It had been quite shocking, so Sansa used the opportunity to talk to the man and cheer him up a little. And she failed terribly. Instead of comforting the scowling man, she angered him and he barked at her horrible things, calling her stupid. Sansa had been hurt and embarrassed.

When Clegane left royal service and established his own security agency, Sansa hoped she would never see him again and she would be spared of any further embarrassment. But she wasn’t that lucky and when she bought one of the two empty flats in the Red Keep, Clegane coincidentally bought the other one. Sansa then saw him only once, but it was enough for her to once again overdo it with politeness. And now the man thought she wanted him to visit her. Typical. Had her mother been alive, Sansa would have known how to handle such situations. But instead she behaved like a fool. Did Joffrey think she was a fool?

“Ah, dog,” Joffrey grinned at the newcomer. He was so welcoming. But wait, why did he call Clegane a dog? The media had called Clegane by his old military nickname, but it was not appropriate to use it…

“Joff,” Clegane gave a nod of greeting.

Of course. They were friends, it was why Joffrey called him by a nickname. Men were like that.

“You got it wrong, dog. I told you I’d call you later to pick up the magazines.”

Clegane sneered. “I didn’t come because of your bloody magazines, boy, Lady Sansa herself has invited me.”

“And you thought she meant it? Never figured you for a lady’s man, dog,” Joffrey teased.

“You probably never figured a bit more than that, boy,” Clegane replied in his rough voice. Everything about him was rough and terrifying, even the voice. Sansa shivered. It was unkindly of her to think like that about the man, it was stupid to be scared of a man just based on some superficial characteristics. Her mother would never have even noticed his physical flaws.

“Mr. Clegane thought I was doing something dangerous, so he came to check on me,” Sansa explained apologetically to the handsome producer. “And I have truly invited him to stop by for a neighbourly visit whenever the time allows it. And…”

“…and it happens to be right now,” Clegane finished.

Sansa nodded and sat herself down next to Joffrey on a sofa and started pouring everybody tea. It was awkward this way, Sansa really needed to sit at the dining table to serve the tea, but she managed to be elegant even like this. 

“Have a seat, please, Mr. Clegane,” Sansa smiled at him. There was abundance of seating furniture in the room, but Clegane took a step to Sansa instead. Before she could even say something, the huge man sat himself down right between her and her handsome prince, the sofa painfully dipping under Clegane’s weight, making Sansa almost fall on him. The man didn’t seem to notice and he instead began nonchalantly pouring water into his tea. Sansa now couldn’t even see Joffrey properly over the bulk of Clegane’s body! At least Clegane was sitting with the better part of his face turned to her, but it was all wrong anyway.

Sansa swallowed. “Mr. Clegane, I…”

“Sandor,” he interrupted her again.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Sandor, not Mister. You better use it, girl.”

“I…”

Sansa had nothing to say. The man was thirty five, she knew it from the newspapers, he wasn’t old enough to suggest getting onto first-name terms with her! But Sansa was now in King’s Landing, where people were more relaxed about proper manners. It made them more honest, Sansa decided.

“Sansa,” she said in a small voice and took his hand, shaking it.

His eyes softened, the perpetual scowl faded from Clegane‘s face, and something like a smile appeared there for a brief moment. “Sansa,” he repeated, still holding her hand, staring deep into her eyes. “Suits you well, little bird.”

Sansa took her hand back. “Thank you, Mr… Sandor.”

“Our names are similar,” he pointed out.

Sansa was glad he’d found something they had in common. It was a good conversation starter. She should have noticed it first. “Indeed. It’s as if we were siblings with very unimaginative parents!” she replied jokingly.

“No, not really, little bird,” Clegane smirked.

No, it wasn't a good conversation starter after all. And Sansa couldn’t talk to Joffrey as she had planned. She wanted to see Joffrey’s beautiful face and she wanted to be near him. Instead it was the Clegane’s aftershave she could smell, it was warmth of the Clegane’s body she could feel. Clegane was too big, his muscles were too big and it was all too distracting for Sansa, so she quickly diverted her attention elsewhere. “Have you ever tried Wintertown’s cream cheese buns?”

“No, I have to watch my carbs,” Joffrey answered. “I’ve been working on my six pack.”

“Good for you, boy,” Clegane shoved a bun into his mouth.

“I’ve used a traditional recipe for these,” Sansa explained.

“Does everything from the North have to be traditional?” Sansa heard Joffrey from somewhere from behind Clegane. “Mother says cooking and baking is a waste of time for a woman with a purpose.”

Clegane was already eating a second bun. “Not if you bake like this,” he said with a full mouth. “Seven hells, but this is good. And I don’t even like sweet things normally.”

“Thank you, Sandor,” Sansa smiled bashfully. “These are meat hand pies if you want,” she pointed to another full plate.

He immediately took one, chewing appreciatively. “Do you ever rest, little bird?” He never bothered to swallow before he spoke and Sansa found this habit rather distasteful. "You shouldn't work so much."

“Why do you think I like to bake?” she smiled nonetheless, politely ignoring his lack of manners. “There’s something very therapeutic about kneading the dough.”

“Is this made out of reindeer meat?” Joffrey sniffed at one pie before putting it back in place.

“No.”

“Really? I thought your people eat nothing else but reindeer and fish,” Joffrey sniggered.

Sansa blushed deeply. “That’s just a stereotype,” she replied quietly. She was mortified to realize Joffrey would soon notice the fish pasty and judge her for it. She had decorated it so nicely and now she wanted it to disappear. Everything was wrong. With Clegane in the room Sansa couldn’t even tell Joffrey about daily life of Northerners. Joffrey would move with her to the North one day, he had to understand their lifestyle. This was all too frustrating. “The North is richer than that.”

“Barristan has mentioned you sing in some northern folk choir,” Clegane remembered.

“Yes, I do. We sing mostly Free Folk songs.”

“And could I see you somewhere?”

“You could. Next week is the Brandon the Breaker’s Day, so we’ll be singing at the celebrations,” she announced proudly.

“I hope I can make it, then,” Clegane nodded. “Will you be singing solo, too?” he wondered. 

“No, no, I would be too afraid to do that. Do you sing?”

The idea seemed to amuse Clegane greatly and he gave a bark of a laughter. “Sure, when I really need to torture someone.”

“I am sure it’s not so bad,” Sansa replied courteously.

“No, it’s actually much worse than that. But you’re a little singing bird after all.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say to it, so she just blushed. Clegane fixed her with such an intense stare, she had to look away. 

“I just like music,” Sansa cheeped. 

“That’s nice. Barristan told me you have a good guitar, too.”

“A crannogmen guitar, yes. I needed it repaired and Mr. Selmy recommended me an excellent luthier.”

“Do you need to carry it back home? I can help you.”

“No, thank you, it's very kind of you, Sandor, but I have it back already.”

Sansa was trying to come up with a good conversation topic, but then the sight of Clegane completely stole her words. Clegane took an entire plate into his enormous hand and started feeding himself much more efficiently, shoving one pie into his mouth after another. What a savagery! Why couldn’t they just sit and take their time, sip their tea, enjoying the friendly conversation as well as the food? Before Sansa could even come up with something witty to say, all her beautiful meat hand pies disappeared in the man’s hungry mouth and there was suddenly a tragic emptiness in the middle of her perfectly set table. Sansa couldn’t bear it and quickly remedied the problem with another plate full of little open sandwiches. Her mother would have never let any plate get empty in front of her guests.

“Where’s your dog anyway, little bird? Sandor asked.

“You know Lady?”

“I’ve never seen her, but Barristan said it’s some special northern breed.”

Sansa nodded, but then she thought about it for a moment. “Why does Mr. Selmy speak so much about me?”

“What do I care?” Clegane shrugged. “I’m just repeating what the man said.”

“Why do you think old men talk about young girls?” Joffrey chuckled. Oh, yes, Joffrey, he was there, too. Her prince. She had to involve him in the conversation.

But Clegane continued to rudely ignore the handsome producer. “So? What breed is your dog, little bird?” 

“Lady is a northern wolfdog. We sometimes call them direwolves, but she really has the sweetest temper.

“And where’s she now?”

“She… she’s sleeping,” Sansa lied, trying to avoid the topic so that it wouldn’t upset Joffrey.

Clegane raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never even seen you walk her out.”

“We usually leave at seven in the morning and while I am at school, she stays at the company’s gardens. We walk back from there at eight in the evening.”

“That’s dark already.”

“I’m used to that,” Sansa assured the man. There was plenty of darkness in the North.

“And you walk from your office?”

“We do.”

“Through the Flea Bottom?

“Yes.”

“Alone?” 

“Me and Lady.”

“Seven hells, you’re really a crazy little bird, aren’t you?” Clegane snapped.

“Why do you say that?” Sansa swallowed anxiously. The man was angry, why was he always angry? He was so moody. Sansa never forgot to walk out Lady, Lady was a very happy dog.

“Why do I say that?” Clegane growled. “Every person in this damned country knows exactly who Sansa Stark is, you’ve got a million fan pages full of horny creeps taking photos of you every day. But you walk around without security anyway. You never have any bodyguard with you…”

Sansa shook her head vehemently. “I certainly don’t have a million fan pages…” 

“…and now you even walk through the Flea Bottom alone! At dark! What are you even thinking, girl?”

This was an obvious professional deformation, Mr. Clegane owned a security agency, it was normal for him to see danger everywhere.

“Nothing can happen to me, Sandor," she said gently. "I’m always with Lady.”

Joffrey laughed. “Women. Let her be, dog, at least she’s pretty if nothing else.”

Clegane tensed and slowly turned his head to Joffrey, saying something to him lowly. Sansa bit her lip. The day wasn’t working out according to her plan at all. “I can assure you, people in King’s Landing have always been very nice to me!” Sansa defended her position once more.

“Sure. You think that just because they have never seen anyone more beautiful than you, they’ll all greet you with roses and songs, is that it? Seven bloody hells,” Clegane let out a disbelieving sigh, shaking his head. “Never mind. I walk out my dog every evening, too, we’ll take it around your office from now on.”

“I don’t understand,” Sansa repeated again. She was making a fool of herself, wasn’t she?

“I’ll pick you up there every day so that you don’t have to walk around alone.”

“But I am always with Lady!”

“So now she’ll have a company. I’ll keep you safe, little bird,” he promised.

“It’s truly not necessary, Sandor, I’m perfectly safe with Lady!”

“Good, you and your Lady can keep me and my dog safe then,” he decided. “And enough about this. Where are the magazines?”

Sansa momentarily lost track of the conversation. “Magazines?” 

“I’m supposed to take out some old magazines for our dear Cersei.”

Joffrey stood up looking around, as if he was eager to leave. He avoided Sansa's eyes just as much as Sandor's. Had Clegane terrified poor Joffrey, too? Was Joffrey leaving already? So soon? Sansa was really a terrible host. Her mother would have been ashamed of her.

“But…” she tried to think of a way to make Joffrey stay.

“Where are they?” Sandor stood up, too, his figure dwarfing Joffrey completely.

“Over there,” Sansa pointed to two boxes full of her vintage fashion magazines. They were both too heavy for Sansa to move them and she had expected Joffrey to do it. But instead Clegane lifted both the boxes with ease and made his way out of the door, Joffrey following him emptyhanded.

“Thanks for the tea,” Joffrey quickly put on his shoes. “And have fun with the dog,” he sneered once more and left. It was all so fast Sansa didn't even manage to give him a few cakes to take home.

“Have a nice day,” Sansa replied with sadness. She was stupid. She had only embarrassed herself. She had been pining after Joffrey for so long and now she ruined it. Her entire future, her wedding veil, everything was lost.

But Clegane came back immediately, stepping again into her flat. He comfortably seated himself on her plush sofa and looked at her, smiling wickedly.

“Well. Can I meet the dog now?” he rasped.

Sansa pursed her lips. He was the cause. He had come for a visit at the most inconvenient time, he had scared her, he had made Joffrey leave so soon, he had acted as if Sansa wasn’t capable of looking after herself, he had even disgraced her poor pies by eating them too fast! He had ruined everything. And now Clegane had the nerve to smile as if nothing had happened. What an awful man!


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa couldn’t wait for the Brandon’s Day. She hoped Joffrey would come to the folk festival. Joffrey and… she blushed, thinking of another man. He was brave, gentle and strong and he was so gorgeous. Indeed, Sansa really hoped Loras Tyrell would see her sing, too. She was perhaps looking forward to spending time with him more than anything else. Loras was the most handsome man she had ever seen and he was incredibly gallant and sweet. Sansa had dreamt about Joffrey for years, but so far he hadn’t been very attentive to her. She didn’t understand why. Sansa always looked her best around him and she tried to show him how smart she was, too. He didn’t seem very impressed, though. Loras on the other hand… Loras was different. Loras was a gentleman. A true gentleman.

Loras had always complimented Sansa and he had shown his interest in her all too clearly. A lot of interest, actually. Sansa had to blush even just thinking about it. When she had helped Loras get in touch with some northern businessmen, Loras brought her flowers to thank her. Just like that. A bouquet of flowers. Loras Tyrell gave her a large bouquet of the most exquisite red roses and he kissed her hand. It had really happened! He’d kissed her hand. His perfect lips touched Sansa’s hand and they lingered, too. And as if it wasn’t enough, Loras took one of the roses from her and he pinned it to the lapel of his jacket. Sansa thought she might just faint, but she didn’t. She got to enjoy all his fleeting touches and smiles. Loras had such a beautiful, romantic soul. He proudly wore the rose for the rest of the day and made his feelings abundantly clear. Such declaration of affections was like something out of a book, or an old film and Sansa loved and collected old romantic films and books. This was how a true gentleman was supposed to behave, even if most men didn’t know it anymore. Loras did know it. He was perfect and Sansa couldn’t stop thinking him. It was so bad she had to speak about the young lawyer even to her septon. She was wondering whether Loras could perhaps be even better suited for her than Joffrey. He complimented her every time he saw her, he admired her beauty and wisdom. And he himself was so handsome. And clever. He came from a great family and he had manners of a king. He would make an excellent husband.

Sansa Tyrell. Lady Sansa Stark-Tyrell. That didn’t sound too bad, did it? Not bad at all. Sansa was just wondering about her new signature, when she heard an old man greet her. Sansa froze a little when she noticed Mr. Selmy. He’d fought along with her father in a war and she genuinely liked him. She just never knew what to talk with him about. They always kept repeating old stories about Sansa’s father and all their conversations ended up being too forced and awkward. This day would probably be no exception as the tall man didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving her alone any time soon.

“You are still happy in King’s Landing then?” Selmy wanted to know. He always asked the same questions.

“Yes, very happy, thank you.”

“Indeed, I can see you’ve set yourself up very well, I’ve even heard you’ll be singing at the Brandon’s festival,” he smiled.

“You… you have heard about it?” Sansa repeated. Her appearance was to be a surprise for the public, so it was obvious where exactly Selmy had heard this information. Sansa’s father and Selmy had been friends, but now Selmy worked for Sandor Clegane and they were apparently very close. 

“Sure, sure. It sounds nice. The celebrations. We might stop there after work with Sandor, too.”

“Do you often go to folk festivals, Mr. Selmy?” Sansa asked politely.

“Oh, no, I’m not a man for such things,” Selmy replied. “But this one… it sounds nice.”

“I see.” 

The old man obviously didn’t think they’d had enough of polite conversation. He lived in a flat on the second floor of the Red Keep, but lately Sansa had been seeing him more frequently than any other of her neighbour.

“Sandor listens to some old songs, I’m sure he’ll understand the music much better than me,” Selmy continued.

“I hope you will both enjoy it,” Sansa nodded. “It’s nice to see you here at this hour, Mr. Selmy, are you not working today?”

“No, we’ve been dealing with some issues over the past week, so Sandor let me have at least this full day and night off,” Selmy admitted in a tired voice before pausing for a moment. “I mean… Sandor is a great business partner. The best, really,” he assured her quickly. “He is just a very hard-working man and expects the same from others. Not… not in a bad way. He is a great boss.”

“I see.”

“His security company is really the best in Westeros. And he’s built it all by himself.”

“Yes, I have read about it a lot in the newspapers.”

“Well…” Selmy swallowed. “They wrote all sorts of things about him in newspapers, you shouldn’t really pay any attention to it. Sandor perhaps used to be bit wilder in his youth, but those times are really long gone. He’s had a difficult life and he’s dealt with it as well as he could. He’s the most reliable man I know.”

Those words surprised Sansa. “I have never read anything about Mr. Clegane being wild.”

“You haven’t? Ah, yes. Of course,” Selmy seemed flustered. “That was just stupid. A stupid article. Sandor’s a good man. He’s… good.”

“But you are competitors, are you not?”

Selmy shook his head. “No, we’ve decided we work best together. My company operates mostly in Essos and elsewhere, his people work solely in Westeros. Our clients travel a lot around the world, so it’s a very useful cooperation.”

“That’s clever,” Sansa smiled.

“Yes, it’s very admirable for a man of his youth to have created such a successful business from scratch. He’s not much older than you.”

“Fifteen years.”

“You see? That’s not much at all!” Selmy announced cheerfully before nervously clearing his throat. Sansa had always seen Selmy as a stoic hero of her father’s stories and she was glad to see such a human reaction in him. Selmy even tried to see the best in his friend, no matter how awful Clegane was. “Sandor really is… a good man. Yes. He’s good.”

“That’s nice.”

It was a long conversation with not much being really said. Sansa tried not to ponder on Selmy’s reasons for visiting the festival and dragging Clegane along. She rather mused about her new signature. Her current signature was already impressive, but the name Tyrell offered many possibilities how to make it especially beautiful. Tyrell was a much more elegant name than Baratheon. Or was Sansa being mean towards Joffrey? Joffrey hadn’t been paying much attention to her, but he was still Joffrey, the man of her dreams. Sansa decided she would see how the two men behaved on the Brandon’s Day. It was sinfully exciting to have a choice between two great men.

When the Brandon’s Day came, Sansa had a rare opportunity to put on a vintage folk costume from the museum. The old dress of a northern princess had been first worn by Sansa’s great great grandmother and it was still in pristine condition. The blue pattern matched the colour of Sansa’s eyes and the cut complimented her figure. It was truly breath-taking. Sansa braided her hair in the old northern fashion and spent a long time admiring herself in the mirror. She was so pretty, she couldn’t believe it herself. Perhaps Loras would give her another rose. Or kiss her hand again. He would certainly want to kiss much more. Sansa giggled at the thought and applied some more lipstick. She would once again be the most beautiful girl in attendance.

Sansa unfortunately didn’t see Loras during her performance. The only familiar face she could see was Clegane, who towered over everyone else and stood in a corner, his gaze glued to her. The intensity of his stare always made Sansa nervous, which was the last thing she needed during her public appearance. But once she was finished, Loras immediately came to her. 

“You were fantastic, Sansa, you looked like a real star!” Loras complimented her enthusiastically. 

Why, oh, why did he have to come along with Renly Baratheon? Sansa always tried to avoid the man. Renly was a handsome film director and he’d always been very nice to Sansa, but he had also sued Joffrey and tried to rob him of his company. Sansa didn’t understand their dispute, but she really didn’t want to get in the middle of it and ruin her chances with Joffrey. She always tried to avoid Renly for this reason and she avoided talking about him as well. It was not easy at all, because Loras and Renly were best friends and often seemed inseparable.

“Let me introduce you,” Loras continued. “This is my sister Margeary. Margeary, this is Lady Sansa.”

Sister! Good, Sansa could talk to Margeary and ignore Renly without being impolite. Margeary was a beautiful girl often featured in fashion magazines because of her charity work and Sansa always admired her work as well as style. They would be great friends, she could feel it. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sansa,” the charming philanthropist immediately hugged her.

She hugged her. People in King’s Landing hugged. A lot. Why did they hug so much? Sansa tried to mimic the girl’s movements, but she felt awkward doing it. She was used to hugging only her relatives and she feared she was a horrible hugger. But Southerners were very warm people, Sansa wanted to be more like them.

“And this is my amazing brother Willas,” Loras continued and Sansa got to shake hands with another handsome man.

Loras had already introduced her to his family! And they were so welcoming to her. Sansa’s heart was pounding in excitement. She loved her family very much, so she understood the closeness of the Tyrell siblings. And she also knew how significant such introduction was. Loras was a real gentleman, considerate to his family, he wanted to get his family’s blessing before starting a serious relationship with Sansa. Sansa had after all talked about him with Arya and her dearest teacher, septa Mordane, too. They were both so similar. 

“Loras has told us so much about you we couldn’t wait to meet you in person,” Willas said, smiling. He was less handsome than Loras and he had to use a cane when walking, but he had a very kind face and bright eyes. “Mere words certainly don’t do justice to your beauty.”

Sansa blushed at hearing those words. Loras couldn’t help himself but talk about her beauty to his siblings. She shyly smiled at him. She spent half an hour talking with the Tyrell siblings, avoiding Renly as much as she could. The Tyrells were everything a good family was supposed to be. Margeary shared news about her famous cosmetic brand and about the bright future of Willas’ agricultural company and his supermarket chain. Sansa knew that Willas had suffered significant financial losses due to poor investments and he’d actually been struggling for years. But Sansa discreetly stayed quiet about it. It was nice that Margeary was so supportive of her brother’s business. Willas seemed like a genuinely good man, so Sansa hoped thing would soon turn for the better for him. It only bothered her a little that she’d learned more from Margeary about Willas than Loras. At least she was getting better acquainted with the Tyrells. Septa Mordane had already told her that they were a very honourable, pious family and it was apparent in their every word. Perhaps Sansa really shared more values with them than with Joffrey’s family after all.

It surprised Sansa how many people seemed to know everything about her life. There were many northerners living in King’s Landing, but southerners talked to her much more. Many people told her how they cried upon hearing about the crash of Ned Stark’s plane, how they had respected her parents and how they thought she looked just like her famous mother. Sansa got to meet countless interesting people and take countless photos with them. She just hoped her blush wasn’t visible in the pictures, too. Was she beautiful enough? Did she react properly? She really wanted to live up to people’s expectations.

When Sansa got to Selmy, she was told the same old compliments for the hundredth time in the day. Selmy wasn’t very inventive when it came to conversations, but at least he knew what to say, unlike his friend Clegane. Both men were standing at a bar and both couldn’t possibly look any more conspicuous. As if it wasn’t enough how tall they were, neither of them bothered to change their clothes. Selmy came to a folk festival dressed in a black suit that screamed royal bodyguard and Sansa wondered briefly whether the man even owned anything else. And while Clegane was wearing only formal trousers and a boring grey shirt, he was towering over everyone, constantly scanning the crowd like a dog trying to sniff out invaders he could have for dinner. 

Selmy had already finished eating, while Clegane had two more plates of food left. Sansa was displeased that people at the festival were all eating northern food so hastily. It wasn’t made for such consumption, people were supposed to take their time to enjoy the northern meals, not stuff it into their mouths like Clegane did. Sansa narrowed her eyes at the man, secretly wishing him to stain his shirt. She was ashamed of that thought, of course, but no, not, really, he needed to learn his lesson. But Clegane didn’t probably even care about stains. He had his sleeves rolled up, taking everything in his hands like a barbarian. Sansa shuddered at the sight.

Selmy was very nice to Sansa, though. Sansa had always appreciated his refined manners and dignified exterior. Clegane could learn from his friend. While Sansa and Selmy spoke in length about the festival, Sandor wasn’t even trying to be polite. He didn’t as much as glance at Sansa, instead he concentrated fully on his food. Why didn’t he admire the immense richness of Northern culture? Why didn’t he tell Sansa how pretty she was? There were so many things he could have said about her beauty!

“What about you, Sandor?” Sansa couldn’t stand it anymore. “How do you like it here?”

“The security in this place isn’t worth a shit,” Clegane rasped, wiping the plates clean with his bread, leaving them spotless. He still wasn’t looking at her.

Sansa frowned a little. “But the atmosphere is nice, isn’t it? There are so many lovely people here!”

“Lovely?” Clegane snapped. “Is that why you take a picture with every bugger in this damn city?” he snarled. “Do you even realize how stupid it is to let anyone that flatters you get so close to you?“ 

Sansa blinked in surprise. She had basically asked him to compliment her and he called her stupid instead. “What is stupid about it?” she pouted.

“What?” he repeated in disbelief. “What if they had a knife, huh? Do you know how many of those lovely people are nuts? And why do you think all the lovely men put their filthy arms around you?”

“We were posing for pictures!”

“The hell you were,” he snarled. 

“Look at those wolf costumes!” Selmy interrupted them, pointing towards the children performing traditional Free Folk dance. While Selmy complimented northern patterns, Clegane returned to sulkily drinking his beer.

“We’ve been admiring the costumes all day, especially yours, Sansa, when you were singing,” Selmy stressed the second time. “Didn’t she look beautiful, Sandor?”

Sandor shrugged. “I was paying attention to the song,” he grumbled, looking into his glass.

“He liked the costume, too,” Selmy assured her rather too forcibly. “Sandor said you looked like a precious little singing bird. He said it.”

Clegane raised his single eyebrow. “Did I?”

Selmy didn’t stop there when trying to prove his point and Clegane was obviously growing irritated because of Selmy’s exaggerations. And then... Clegane blushed. He really blushed. He was blushing and scowling even more than usual. He was a horrible, annoying man, but Sansa could almost sympathise with him. Sansa’s family always twisted her words, too, and especially Arya embarrassed her wherever they went. Sansa didn’t like Clegane’s unrefined manners and she often found his behaviour quite disturbing, and yet she didn’t want Clegane to feel too uncomfortable because of Selmy. Old men were sometimes like this and Selmy’s compliments were at least kindly meant. Sansa remembered again how badly media had treated Clegane. Now Sandor was out in public because of Selmy, too large to blend in, too recognizable to go unnoticed. Perhaps Sansa had judged Sandor unfairly. It was kind of him enough that he had come at all.

Sansa touched Clegane’s arm, squeezing it in assurance and he swiftly turned his head to her, his eyes widening in surprise. She smiled at him, letting him know there was no reason to be embarrassed for his friend. Clegane swallowed, a surprisingly boyish little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He smiled with his eyes, it was nice to see. Sansa was proud of herself for looking directly at him without feeling repulsed by his scars anymore. She noticed other things about him, too. For one, it weren’t only the scars that made him ugly, he also had a large hooked nose. It gave the poor man even more brutish look. And the hair, the hair wasn’t doing him any favours, either. Sandor’s hair wasn’t bad for a man of his age, no. Some people were already balding in their thirties after all. But the disfiguring scars covered a large part of Clegane’s scalp, too, and no hair grew there. The man was trying to cover it with a long and particularly unfortunate comb-over that did nothing but draw attention to the glistening skin underneath. When Sandor thought nobody was looking at him, Sansa often saw him rearrange those lonely strands on his head over and over again. It had always been a lost battle, though. The hair looked bad. It looked really, really bad. Would Clegane look better with his head shaved? It was definitely worth trying, as it couldn’t possibly look worse anyway. But Clegane’s eyes were nice just the way they were. Had it been someone else, Sansa would almost say there was tenderness hidden in their depth.

Sansa smiled at Clegane. There was a silent understanding between them, accepting Selmy’s peculiarities. Sansa’s hand was still on Clegane’s arm and Sansa realized the thing underneath was quite fascinating. Clegane’s arms were completely relaxed, but his bicep still felt hard. Sansa squeezed it some more, wondering whether it was normal. Were her own arms perhaps too wobbly? They didn’t feel like this at all. Sansa truly needed to exercise more, people in King’s Landing were amazingly fit and Sansa didn’t want them to judge her. But as she pondered on the thought, Sandor took in a deep breath, his chest heaving and Sansa realized her touch lingered far too long to be appropriate. She quickly pulled her hand away and lowered her lashes, blushing profusely. She’d forgotten her manners! Clegane took a step closer to her, but Sansa didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t let him see how weirded out she was by his looks.

Sansa rather glanced at Mr. Selmy, who was smiling as if he’d just found a litter of puppies. “Do you dance, Sansa?” 

“Oh, yes, I love dancing!” Sansa nodded enthusiastically and froze a little. Would she have to dance with the old man now?

“Can you imagine Sandor has never danced?” Selmy asked, giving Sandor a smug grin.

That wasn’t very nice of Selmy to bring this up, Sansa didn’t want Sandor to feel bad about it. “Everybody has different interests,” she came to the scarred man’s defence. “I don’t know many other things Sandor knows. I can teach you to dance whenever you want,” she turned to Sandor, touching his arm once again. 

There was an unusual softness in Clegane's eyes. “I…” he cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you return to your pretty boys, little bird?” he nodded his head towards the Tyrells. 

“Well,” Sansa glanced at her watches. “I have to get back to Jeyne,” she confessed apologetically. “She needs help with her costume.”

Clegane nodded, but he stepped towards the tents with her and Sansa realized he must have misunderstood her. He positioned himself just like a bodyguard would. “You don’t have to accompany me, Sandor,” she assured him quickly.

“Oh, really?” he mocked good-heartedly. “Just look at the security guards.”

“Where?” Sansa looked around. “I don’t see any.”

“Precisely. That’s the point.” He ruthlessly pushed people out of her way, clearing a path for her. “But you’re safe with me, little bird, don’t worry. Nobody will bother you again.”

“But I am safe, Sandor!” she tried to explain.

“As well as you should,” he noted with satisfaction.

He really thought his muscles and height were the only thing keeping the world from crashing down, didn’t he? Sansa felt like a complete idiot walking with a bodyguard through the merry crowd. She was relieved when he left her alone with Jeyne. Sansa had come to King’s Landing to live a normal life of a university student, the last thing she needed was an insufferable giant bodyguard by her side.

Jeyne sang like an angel and Sansa beamed with pride during her performance. And then, when they were finally both done with their performances, all nervousness was gone and they could freely mingle among the people. Sansa narrowly avoided her uncle Petyr and instead got to dance with Jon’s good friend Sam, who was to graduate soon and start working for Sansa’s company. He was a clumsy dancer, but he was sweet and clearly doing his best. Besides, Sansa always appreciated his insight in the student life. Sam introduced her to many new people, too, but Sansa was most happy about seeing Joffrey in the crowd. 

“You look very beautiful, Sansa,” he said. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Boros?”

The man just nodded. Sansa had always admired Joffrey, but his friends made her feel slightly uneasy. Boros was no exception. He’d always been very polite towards Sansa, but the more respectful he behaved towards people in the Red Keep, the meaner he seemed to be to every waitress, shopkeeper or a craftsman. His behaviour was quite hard to stomach for Sansa and she didn’t understand how Joffrey could not notice.

She rather turned to the handsome producer himself. “Are you dancing, Joffrey?”

“I’m sure too good of a dancer to embarrass myself with this wildling frolicking,” Joffrey snickered. “But you wouldn’t mind dancing with Sansa, would you, Boros?”

“Why not,” the man shrugged.

Sansa swallowed anxiously. “I...”

“Sorry,” she heard a deep rumble of a voice behind herself. “But Lady Sansa has already promised the dance to me.”

Sansa looked up at Sandor in relief. Clegane would be a horrible dancer, she knew, but almost anything was better than Boros Blount. Clegane at least never stared at her breasts and he never tried to touch her inappropriately. That was at least one benefit of dancing with a man, who never complimented her looks or cared for them at all. Whenever Clegane had called Sansa pretty or beautiful, it sounded more like an insult than anything else. But due to his professional deformation he seemed very protective and Sansa felt safe with him.

“Ah, you haven’t given up yet, dog?” Joffrey laughed. “Go on, then. A dancing dog, that’s something you don’t see every day!”

His men laughed with him, but Sandor had already taken Sansa’s hand. “If you don’t mind?” he asked her quietly. Sansa just smiled at him gratefully for saving her from Blount. Sandor’s eyes lit up and a smile formed on his face. As they walked together to the dancing area, he looked smug again.

“I should explain you the basic steps,” Sansa realized.

“No need, I’ve seen enough, I think,” he rasped and wrapped his arms around Sansa. She was not used to dancing with someone much taller than herself, how did people do it anyway? Clegane’s height was highly impractical. He was new to northern dances and Sansa wouldn’t be able to move him around. And there was one more unfortunate effect, too. Sansa was wearing a lot of makeup, even if all the men seemed to think she was wearing none. Having her face pressed to his shirt wasn’t a very good idea. What would she tell Clegane if he ended up with foundation or lipstick smudges on his shirt? Oh, no, this was going to be so embarrassing.

Clegane was right, though, he understood the basic steps well enough. He obviously had a good ear for music and unlike Sam, he was able to immediately get the rhythm right. Actually, he was surprisingly graceful in his movements. Sansa felt impossibly tiny in his arms and he led the joyful dance with ease. His hands did neither wander, nor crush her and his embrace was very warm and gentle. Clegane smelled nice, too. He had a clean and masculine scent about him and Sansa liked it. Sansa soon realized she didn’t have to worry about the steps, she knew they wouldn’t collide into anyone. She could relax in Sandor’s arms and enjoy the music. 

“Now we’ll exchange the partners,” Sansa informed the man after a while.

“What?” he frowned. “What are you talking about, girl?”

“We’re in the circle, so you’ll send me to the man behind me, you’ll dance with a woman behind you, then the other and other...” Sansa quickly tried to explain the rules of the northern dance. “Until we return to each other.”

“No, no, I’m not doing that!” Clegane snarled.

“You are, it’s how this dance is performed.”

“I’m not...”

Sansa pushed him away and stepped into the embrace of another man, dancing with him for a moment, before turning to yet another man. She could see Clegane scowling at the strange woman in his arms and quickly pushing her away, looking around for Sansa, almost panicking.

When they finally returned to each other, Clegane crushed Sansa to himself and embraced her much tighter than before.

“This was bloody stupid, we’re not doing it again,” he growled into her hair.

Sansa giggled. “You're right, it’s done only once in this song.”

Salsa actually regretted it, because Clegane had looked too adorable when she’d left him to dance with others. He really didn’t like dancing with strangers, did he?

Another dance was much slower, but Clegane learned this one quickly, too. It was quite surprising to Sansa that a man of his size could ever be such a good dancer. This particular dance required them to get as close to each other as possible, but Sansa didn’t actually mind it this time. All was well until she realized Clegane was not wearing an undershirt. It was shocking, really. How could he do that? How could Clegane even think of putting on a shirt on his naked skin? This was exactly what was wrong with the man, he didn’t know what was proper. People in King’s Landing tended to have a shockingly relaxed approach to propriety, but wearing a shirt on a naked skin was still wrong in Sansa’s opinion. 

Sansa could now feel the shapes of the man’s muscles against her skin and it was distracting her from the dance. How could anyone have so defined muscles when not flexing them? Sansa didn’t like the vain men who spent too much time in a gym or even filled their bodies with chemicals only to show off. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like being pressed against the man’s muscles, either. Still, it made her realize how much she needed to exercise more. And besides, a gym was a good place to see Loras and Joffrey and get to know them better. She would go there on the next day, she would. She just didn’t want to see Sandor and any of his muscles there. Clegane’s physique made her too self-conscious.

“Do you go to the gym in the Red Keep, Sandor?” Sansa asked aloud.

“No, I have enough of field training every day.”

Good. She wouldn’t have to feel like a muscleless idiot in the gym, then. 

“Do you like going to the gym?” Sandor asked.

“No, I hate it, actually, but I should get in shape, so I want to go tomorrow. I’ve just been wondering whether the gym is good.”

Clegane shrugged. “I like fresh air better. But I’ll show you around the gym tomorrow.”

“No, I didn’t mean...”

“It’s alright, little bird. I’ll show you around the gym and when we walk the dogs, I’ll show you what we can do outside.”

“It’s not necessary, Sandor.”

“Lady will like it, too.”

“Really?” It suddenly spiked Sansa’s interest.

“Sure. There’s no need for you to do workouts you hate, little bird, and you don’t need combat training like I do, either. We’ll just have fun with the dogs and you’ll both get as much exercise as you need.”

Well, Clegane certainly looked like a man who’d know enough about fitness. And Lady definitely needed to lose a bit of weight, it was true. A little more than a bit. Sansa couldn’t very well imagine having fun with Clegane out of all people, but he could truly help her with Lady. And if Sansa got more fit without stepping into a gym, she wouldn’t complain, either.

“We’ll go to the gym tomorrow when we come home from work, alright, little bird?”

Sansa reluctantly agreed. She tensed when she heard the next song. It was a kissing song. All the dancing couples were supposed to kiss in the end of this song, which was exactly the reason Sansa had never danced it. Septa Mordane had said that the song was a disgrace and no self-respecting girl could ever dance it. The song should have long been banned, Septa Mordane had said. How would kissing Sandor feel? Sansa blushed at the ridiculous thought. Sandor didn’t know anything about the song, so Sansa discreetly suggested they could sit down for a moment. Sandor walked her to the table and pulled out a chair for her. It had never been so easy for Sansa to make her way through the crowd before. There were certain benefits to having a giant by her side after all.

“What can I get you, little bird?” Clegane asked her softly.

Sansa wanted Karhold tea, but she rather ordered coffee to appear a bit worldlier. She felt very elegant and adult when drinking coffee. Did Clegane think she looked elegant? He brought her a lemon cake, too, even though Sansa hadn’t asked for one. She was worried she wasn’t very elegant when eating lemon cakes.

“It’s not as good as your baking, but you need to eat something, little bird,” Clegane said. “I haven’t seen you eat anything here the whole day.”

“Well, I haven't had time...”

“I know. We should have something proper to eat in the blue tent later. Or we could...” he cleared his throat. “I could take you out for a dinner, what do you say? I haven’t eaten much today, either, only a few small snacks.”

“Snacks?”

“Yeah. It would be nice to get away from all the noise and people, wouldn’t it?” he asked, hopeful.

“Snacks,” Sansa nodded stiffly, remembering what constituted a small snack in the man’s eyes. “Snacks.”

“So you agree?” 

Sansa glimpsed a yearning in Clegane’s gaze that made her shiver. Clegane really looked hungry. He had eaten three large lunch meals and he had the audacity to look hungry.

“Sure, sure...” 

Sandor stroked her hand tenderly, smiling at her, his eyes glowing. With hunger. The man was hungrier than a bear before the winter.

“Oh, Sansa, here you are!” Sansa heard Margeary’s voice behind. The beautiful philanthropist was smiling at her widely. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Just imagine, we’ve tried the woodwork workshop! It was so much fun and Willas is so talented! He’s even made something for you!”

“Oh, really?” Sandor snarled at her. “Still looking for a pretty cash cow, sorry, a pretty bride for dear Willas? Is there no other way to raise the family business again? Can’t the man just place an ad or something?”

“I...” Margeary swallowed, a blush spreading across her neck, but hiding under the layer of heavy make-up on the face. “I’ll see you later, Sansa,” she replied curtly.

Before Sansa could say anything, the beautiful girl disappeared into the crowd. Why had Clegane been so awful to Margeary? He’d always been rude, how could Sansa have forgotten about it? Clegane ate like a beast, he didn’t compliment her, he didn’t even bother to wear an undershirt. He was rude to her and rude to everyone else. Sansa frowned at him. He was really a horrible, horrible man.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa woke up with her whole body aching. It had been three days since she’d gone with Sandor to the gym and her body still hadn’t recovered. She couldn’t admit it, of course, she couldn’t say it to him. Sandor had warned her repeatedly, he’d said she was pushing herself too far and Sansa didn’t listen to him, she was trying to prove how fit she was. Everybody in King’s Landing was fit, Sandor most of all. Sansa didn’t want to look like she was out of shape. But she was out of shape. And now also in pain.

Alright, she really wasn’t the right person for a gym. She wasn’t the right person for any sports, actually. She could dance, though, and surely that counted as something. The visit to the gym hadn’t brought her anything good, she hadn’t seen Joffrey or Loras there, only Sandor and his muscles. The mere sight of the man always made her feel either uncomfortable, or insecure. He was judging her all the time, stressing how much stronger he was than her. He even forbade her to lift anything heavy.

Sandor had helped her, when she embarrassed herself in the gym and he inadvertently touched her thigh, too. And it didn’t affect him at all. He withdrew his hand as quickly as possibly, almost as if she’d burned him and he walked away from her without sparing her a single glance. Sansa was pretty, touching her should affect men. Loras would have longingly stared at her, Joffrey would have been unable to tear himself away from her, Petyr would have touched her further. Why didn’t Clegane fancy her? Were her thighs not pretty enough? 

Sansa looked down. It was true, her thighs were thin and they lacked any definition. She didn’t look like women in magazines. And whenever she sat herself down, her thighs spread out oddly. That wasn’t normal. Everybody elses’ thighs looked pretty and hers didn’t even hold their shape. Sansa idly wondered what Sandor thought of her thighs. Why had he never looked over her body? Other men in King’s Landing did it frequently and Clegane wasn’t a gentleman like Loras, quite the contrary. He behaved like a beast, but he didn’t look at her. He really didn’t think her pretty, did he? Well, as it was, Sansa didn’t like his body, either. He was too muscular and he completely lacked elegance or style. Sansa felt terribly self-conscious around him or just thinking about him and she wasn’t used to that. She refused to feel self-conscious. She was pretty. Everybody thought so. And if Clegane judged her because she didn’t have defined muscles, it was his problem. Only his. Men with too many muscles were lacking in their brains anyway.

It was a horrible day and only getting worse. Sansa’s body hurt, she failed to get the best mark for her test at school and she endured an hour long call with uncle Benjen’s fiancée Osha. Osha once again complained about Benjen’s too long business trips and she wasn’t shy about expressing her opinion in a particularly colourful language. Benjen had taken all the business trips in Sansa’s place of course. The arguments between Benjen and Osha were therefore Sansa’s fault and she didn’t know what to do about it. When Sansa was finally finished at work, she was somehow left alone in her office with her uncle Petyr. Petyr wasn’t her real uncle, he’d just been married to Sansa’s aunt Lysa. And their marriage had been cut short by Lysa’s untimely death. Half-a-year-long marriage, did it even count? Sansa was grateful to Petyr for all his help, but she didn’t really enjoy being in his company. She didn’t want to be ungrateful, there was just something about him that always made her uneasy.

“So... was I right, Sansa?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes, thank you, Petyr,” she agreed politely. “We’re very grateful to you. Uncle Benjen praised the deal as well.”

Petyr’s lips turned up at the corners, but his eyes remained cold. “He had to. After three months of claiming that I can’t possibly be helping you out of the goodness of my heart, he had to accept that there’s no financial gain in it for me.”

It was true. Petyr had gone to great length to secure a very lucrative deal for Winterfell Copper. He’d wasted so much time and yet he declined any well-deserved reward. He was obviously just trying to gain acceptance of Sansa’s family. Benjen and Lysa’s uncle Brynden openly disliked the man and even Jon never trusted him. It was very touching that their opinion was so important to Petyr even after Lysa’s tragic death. Sansa would do her best to make others like him. It wasn’t Petyr’s fault he looked a little creepy.

“We’ll never forget how much you’ve done for us, Petyr.”

“We? Who are you talking about?”

“The company, Benjen, me...”

“You know I wasn’t doing it for Benjen, Sansa,” Petyr stroked her hair. “You shouldn’t always rely on him, you’ve just proven you can make much better decisions by yourself.”

“I still have a lot to learn. I wouldn’t be able to do anything without Benjen.”

“And yet he wasn’t the one helping you with this deal.”

“I know, I am truly very grateful to you, uncle.”

“Are you? And how will you thank me, Sansa? A night at your place perhaps?” he giggled. “Is that why you've given me your keys?”

Sansa’s eyes widened and Petyr laughed at the sight. “I’m just teasing you, my sweetling. You really should loosen up a bit. I’ve put a lot of effort into the deal, but I’ve done it all to make you happy. There’s no need to thank me.”

“Well… thank you anyway, uncle.”

“Alright,” he sighed in resignation. “You can give me a little kiss then.”

Sansa frantically tried to think of a polite excuse, but then she felt the man’s lips press to hers. No, no, no. It was horrible. It was utterly horrible. The kiss didn’t last long, but it took Sansa all her will not to cry or scream or do anything unladylike. Petyr was smiling, probably thinking he was being very funny, but everything was ruined for Sansa. Everything was horrible. She quickly started to pack her things.

“I… I should go,” she apologized herself. “I have another appointment.”

“What appointment?”

“That’s… I really have to go,” Sansa peeped.

“My sweetling, we haven’t even finished our conversation. It’s not very considerate of you, is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Petyr, but I really have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she left the room as quickly as possible, Lady obediently following her.

This was horrible, this was horrible, this was so horrible. Sansa hadn’t shared her first kiss with the father of her future children. She hadn’t kissed charming Joffrey, she hadn’t kissed beautiful Loras, instead her first kiss was a bad joke of uncle Petyr. All her dreams, all her plans, everything was ruined. 

And as if the day wasn’t bad enough, there was always Clegane to add to it. He was the appointment Sansa had spoken about and he was already waiting in front of Sansa’s office building to walk her home again. He stood there without a single movement, like a statue of an ancient god or a bodyguard. Couldn’t he at least try to be a bit inconspicuous? The newspapers had already taken pictures of Sansa with Sandor on the Brandon’s Day and they claimed Sandor was Sansa’s new bodyguard. He didn’t even work as a bodyguard any more, he hired them instead, but nobody cared about it. Sandor least of all, he’d just shrugged when Sansa had shown him the article. He’d shrugged! He even said it was better when people thought Sansa actually had bodyguards. It was ridiculous. Nobody had ever harmed Sansa and Clegane was acting as if everybody just wanted to murder her. He was ruining everything. Sansa wanted to live a normal life in King’s Landing, wander around aimlessly whenever she wanted with whomever she wanted. Sandor was the last person she’d choose as her company.

And he smiled at her. Sansa was having a horrible day and he smiled at her, his mouth twitching, making him look even uglier. Lady the Traitor immediately run to him, greeting him with almost as much enthusiasm as she had reserved for Sansa. Sandor’s dog Stranger meanwhile wriggled his tail, eager to greet Sansa as well, but too obedient to defy his master. Stranger was an enormous dog and he had quite a temper, but for some reason he really liked Sansa. Perhaps he’d fallen for Lady. Sansa wasn’t surprised by that at all. Everybody had to love Lady. But Lady didn’t have to love Sandor so much. Honestly, she was overdoing it.

“Enough, Lady,” Sansa commanded.

“What’s the matter, little bird? A bad day?” Clegane smiled at her, taking her bag.

“No.”

He smirked, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Sansa knew exactly where they were heading. They would exercise. More sports, yay. More pain, more embarrassment, more needless exposure of the man’s beastly muscles. 

Perhaps a bit of diplomacy could still get her out of it. “Can people like me even go to the training centre?”

“You mean pretty people?” Sandor chuckled. His scowl was always scary, but his smiles really weren’t any better.

“No!” Sansa’s eyes widened in astonishment. How could he think that about her? Sansa would never call herself pretty. Not aloud. She much preferred other people do it for her. “I mean people who are not in the army, police or anything like it.”

“I’m not in the army, either, little bird.”

“But you work in the security company. I can’t train in the same facility like you.”

“Of course you can, all sorts of people come there. And Jaime already knows about you, don’t worry.”

“Jaime? You are friends with Lord Lannister?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as call him a friend, but we’ve served in the army together,” Clegane replied.

Sansa’s father had always said that the friendship made in war were the strongest ones. But he also said that Jaime Lannister was one of the most despicable people he’d ever known. “I see,” she replied diplomatically. 

Sandor looked down at her and smiled at her, almost tenderly. “Don’t worry, little bird, it’s just a playground anyway. You need to have some fun.”

Sansa gave him an anxious smile. The man obviously had a different interpretation as to what constituted fun. Sansa wanted to eat a lemon cake, light up a few candles and snuggle up in her bed with a nice historical romance novel and spend the rest of the day dreaming about chivalry, love and magic. That was fun. Not being out of breath and sweating. That was the exact opposite of fun.

And Clegane seemed to be reading her thoughts. “What do you like to do in your free time, little bird?”

Dance. Read. Cook and eat. Listen to music. Read. Dream. Oh dear, she was really boring, wasn’t she?

“I like to go to theatre. And northern dancing.”

“Where do you go dancing, little bird?”

“I have only been to the festivals, other than that I haven’t been dancing in King’s Landing yet,” she admitted. Gods have mercy, she sounded more and more boring by each passing minute, didn’t she? Clegane had fought in a war, saved the king, seen the world. And she didn’t even go to dance.

“Why not?”

“I... I actually haven’t been dancing for a year. I used to go dancing with Theon in the North, but then... well, we haven’t parted our ways on good terms,” she worded it politely. “And I don’t have a dance partner now.”

Sandor’s smirk faltered. “Theon Greyjoy?” he growled.

“Yes. You know him?”

“No, but you were pictured with him in the newspapers on the Crone’s Day two years ago.”

“Well, we used to be close, but then... he betrayed me.”

Sandor nodded. “You deserve better, little bird,” he told her softly.

Sansa smiled gratefully. She had known Theon almost all her life, he had been like a brother to her and then he betrayed her family and tried to rob them of their properties. It hurt Sansa terribly. She didn’t care about the money, much worse was the feeling that she’d lost yet another member of her family. They hushed up the scandal, but whenever she thought of dancing since then, she remembered Theon and all the pain. Well, until now. When she thought of dancing now, the first thing that came to her mind was Sandor’s firm embrace and the masculine smell of him.

“Thank you, Sandor.”

“We could go dancing together next week, if you want,” Sandor suggested.

“We? You mean... me and you?”

“Sure.”

“But why? You don’t even like dancing!”

He shrugged again. It was just another of his annoying habits. “But you do, little bird. And I don’t mind dancing with you.”

“But...”

He interrupted her impatiently. “All that matters is whether you want to go or not.”

“I do, but I don’t want to bother you like this.”

“It’s no bother,” he shrugged. “At least I won’t forget what you’ve taught me. Is there some dancing next week?”

“Of course there is, but there are more dance styles than what you’ve seen, Sandor,” Sansa pointed out discreetly.

“Then I’ll learn them next week, what do you say?”

“Well... we could try it, I guess,” Sansa agreed reluctantly. Sandor was far too tall to make a good dance partner for her, but he obviously had a very good ear for music, he was much more talented in that regard than then Theon or Jon.

Sandor nodded and smiled at her. “Good.” He awkwardly reached to touch her hair and quickly withdrew his hand, looking to the gate in front of them. “Here we are,” he announced.

He was right. Unfortunately. They were at the training centre, which Jaime Lannister had built by the Aemon’s Park. It looked intimidating even from the outside with its huge walls and flashy lion statues. The large complex had been used as a rehabilitation centre for the wounded war veterans at first, but Sansa knew from Sandor that it served the public now as well. She still suspected only people working in armed forces trained there and she was quickly proven right. Of course she was. The place looked more like a grand exhibition of muscles than anything else. Sansa was starting to hate all the defined muscles of the world. She didn’t have them, alright? She didn’t need them. She was well-read and she was pretty and she had impeccable manners and she didn’t need to have defined muscles. 

“Nice to see you Sandor,” a tall woman greeted Sandor warmly. The rude man replied with only a short nod of his head. Was he ever nice to anyone at all?

But the woman was already looking at Sansa, smiling brightly. “We’ve never met, Lady Stark, but I’m Brienne of Tarth. I had the pleasure of assisting your lady mother in a warzone.”

“I know, my mother always spoke very highly of you,” Sansa smiled at the blonde veteran. “Please, call me Sansa.”

Sansa’s mother admired Brienne, so she admired her, too. Brienne was an accomplished soldier and a great security expert. She was incredibly tall and strong and yet she had the most radiant, genuine smile and beautiful blue eyes. Brienne was a woman like no other and Sandor noticed it, too, as his expression relaxed when he was talking with Brienne. He was always much more tense with Sansa, it wasn’t fair. Perhaps Brienne and Sandor were closer than they let on.

But Brienne was paying more attention to Sansa. “Gods, you’re even prettier in the real life,” she murmured. “You and your family are so inspiring, I always love to read about you. Do you think… Could I take a picture with you? I don’t mean to bother you.”

“Then don’t,” Clegane spat.

“No, I’ll gladly take a picture with you,” Sansa was flattered by Brienne’s excitement. Brienne wasn’t judging Sansa like Clegane and she was beaming with happiness when they took a picture together. Sansa wondered briefly whether Brienne realized at all that she herself was a war hero deserving of fame and admiration.

Sansa was there, among the fittest men and women she’d ever seen, Brienne kept praising Sansa’s mother, Stranger kept trying to get Lady play with him and Sandor kept shooting murderous glares at every man who dared to glance their way. He was only making the whole experience even more bizarre and uncomfortable. 

“Gods, you even have the same gestures like your mother, you’re so graceful,” Brienne gushed. Sansa really liked Brienne, but all the flattery was starting to be a little too much.

“Will you check her teeth as well, or are you finished?” Clegane snarled. 

Brienne glared at him. “It wouldn’t kill you to say something nice for once, too,” she hissed.

“And why would I do that? The little bird hears empty compliments all the time, they don’t make her any safer.”

“There are other things to life than safety, you know?”

Before Sansa could say something for herself, she was interrupted by a joyous voice. “Ah! If it isn’t the Northern Angel!” someone shouted at them.

Jaime Lannister himself was approaching them, a huge smile plastered on his handsome face. 

“Shut your hole, Lannister,” Sandor growled menacingly.

“Oh, my bad, my bad,” Jaime shook his head in mock regret. “Is it a delicate little bird today? No, no, it must be Joffrey’s next victim. Or the auburn...”

“Shut up!” Clegane’s voice boomed, everything instantly falling silent. Even the birds in the trees stopped singing. But Jaime didn’t even flinch and his smile only widened. Sansa trembled instead of him. She had never seen Clegane so furious, he looked as if he would rip Jaime in half. His face was red, his jaw was set and his mouth a firm, grim line. Why was he so angry? When Sandor took a step towards Jaime, a little sound escaped Sansa’s lips. Would Sandor hit Jaime now? Sansa didn’t want them to fight.

All eyes immediately turned to her. Clegane’s expression transformed completely and he looked suddenly lost and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, little bird, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I...” he brushed his fingers through his hair. “Seven hells,” he swore under his breath.

“I’m not scared,” Sansa peeped.

“Of course she is,” Jaime declared. “Bad dog, Clegane, biting...”

Brienne cleared her throat, interrupting him. “It’s Jaime’s fault, Sansa, he provokes people like this all the time.”

“Do I?”

“He’s an idiot,” Brienne clarified. “Don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Hey, my feelings, wench!” Jaime protested.

“Oh, you are a couple?” Sansa realized in surprise.

“No!” Brienne replied sternly.

“Sure, Brienne just hasn’t noticed,” Jaime flashed her a toothy smile. “Another thing we have in common with Clegane.”

Sansa didn’t like Jaime’s insinuations and neither did Sandor. Brienne graciously kicked Jaime and smiled at Sansa. “We’re four people, four dogs, so we could make to teams and do a challenge, what do you say?”

“We’re not doing any challenge, I’m just showing Sansa around,” Sandor said roughly. “We’re fine on our own.”

“Yeah, her dog isn’t trained anyway,” Jaime agreed. 

Sansa pouted. Lady didn’t need an army training, she understood everything perfectly on her own. She was basically a dog genius and nobody was allowed to doubt it. “What challenge?” Sansa wanted to know.

“It’s just an obstacle race, really, you could choose half of the obstacles yourself. But Brienne has a new dog, Podrick, so she wants to see how he compares to others and include the dogs in the race.”

“I’m afraid I’m not good at running,” Sansa admitted. She was ruining Lady’s chances, wasn’t she?

“It’s not so much about running as it is about obstacles,” Brienne assured her. “Just look,” she pointed towards a large man struggling to wriggle through a narrow tunnel. “Do you think I can pass that faster than you?”

Brienne eagerly explained all the rules, while Sansa quietly observed the scene in front of her. There were some normal looking people playing with their dogs, too. All the dogs actually seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely and most of the obstacles looked relatively clean. Sansa could climb gracefully, couldn’t she? 

“What do you think, Sandor?” Sansa turned to the giant man.

“I think you don’t have to listen to any of this. We can just try some things on our own and see what you like first.”

“But I’d like to do the challenge, Sandor,” Sansa confessed.

“You could injure yourself.”

“I won’t. And I’ll be safe with you, won’t I?”

He swallowed. “Of course, little bird, always,” he replied huskily before clearing his throat. “But there’s usually a part where I’d have to carry you, or pick you up.”

“Oh. I’m not so heavy, Sandor.”

He chuckled. “You don’t weigh more than a little bird, girl, I could easily carry you with your entire family,” he assured her with a renewed smugness. “It’s just that you don’t have to agree to this.”

“I want to! Please, Sandor,” she looked up at him pleadingly. “If you don’t mind carrying me of course,” she quickly added.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Jaime assured her. “He wants to carry you away from all the scumbags and make you a queen, doesn’t he?”

Sandor clenched his jaw. “Will you shut up?” 

“Why?” Jaime’s eyes shone with amusement. “If you can’t hold your liquor, don’t complain.”

Sansa didn’t pay attention to the men’s arguments, she wanted Lady to win. “Will we do it, Sandor?” she touched his muscledarm.

“What?” He was looked at her with an odd expression. “Ah, why not, if you don’t mind it, we can do the race, I guess.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, touching his shoulder. It was settled, they’d win. Jaime had a prosthetic hand and even if he didn’t need to use his hands, there was no way he could be better at anything than Sandor. Sansa had danced with Clegane, she knew exactly how well he moved. Brienne would probably be faster then Sansa, but she didn’t have such a good dog as her. They’d win. 

As she was changing, Sansa took a moment to admire herself in the mirror. She didn’t normally wear so tight clothes, but it flattered her figure. She confidently stepped out, hoping a little that Sandor would reconsider his opinion of her body. But he only briefly glanced at her before quickly turning his attention back to Brienne. Brienne and Sandor looked well together. Sansa was above average height, but Sandor was so much taller than her that they looked ridiculous together. Brienne didn’t have this problem, she was a tall, strong veteran like Sandor. They’d make a perfect couple. Brienne didn’t even have to crane her neck to talk to the man. She could kiss him, if she wanted, while Sansa wouldn’t be able to reach Sandor’s cheek even if she stood on her toes. Sansa bit her lip. Why was she thinking about this? She remembered the kiss Petyr had stolen from her and pain constricted her heart again.

Sandor suddenly turned to her. “What’s the matter, little bird?”

“Nothing, Sandor, I’m alright,” she tried to force a smile on her face.

“Has someone bothered you in the dressing room?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Sansa couldn’t think about Petyr. She tried to focus on the race ahead of her. Lady was eager to show off her skills and Sansa wanted her to win. Jaime and Sandor planned the race together and Sansa suspected Sandor purposefully chose the obstacles that would suit her the best. Jaime called it a child’s game, but it was hard enough anyway. Sansa was faster than Brienne for the first four seconds. Then she had to climb over a wall and when she finally managed to get to the top, Brienne was already disappearing somewhere in the distance. Sansa and Lady were in the team with Sandor and Stranger, who had a different set of tasks. While Sansa and Lady had only a few obstacles in their way and their main task was to find and collect five rings and bring them to the meeting spot, Sandor and Stranger had a much more challenging journey ahead of them. He was very fast, though, much faster than Jaime. Sansa didn’t understand how such a large man could crawl so fast under a wired barb. He’d probably have to wait for her in the meeting spot. Would he be mad, if he lost because of Sansa?

Lady was luckily much better than Podrick and she found the first ring almost immediately. They had to get together through a very long and narrow tunnel and it was quite a disappointment to see that Brienne was still ahead of them. But Lady was incredible and she found all the rings very quickly. Sansa run faster than in her entire life and they soon got to the meeting spot. Sandor was already there, but Sansa was faster than Brienne and that was the most important thing. Sansa had to take a role of an injured person now and Sandor had to carry her. She’d done well, now it was his job to win.

“Everything alright, little bird?” Sandor looked over her.

Sansa showed him the five rings she’d collected and quickly jumped at his back.

“Go, go, go!” she shouted.

And he listened, running faster than she did without an extra weight. When he climbed over a few more obstacles, Sansa had to close her eyes and cling to him with all her might. She was probably hurting him, but she really didn’t want to fall.

And then they were at the end and Sandor managed to toss all the five rings perfectly. Jaime was only then getting to the finish with Brienne on his back. 

“We won,” Sansa breathed out, looking at Sandor. “We won!” she squeaked and jumped Sandor in the arms, kissing him forcefully. This was her first kiss, this was the kiss she’d chosen. It was a celebration, a celebration of Sansa winning against some of the most athletic people she knew. She was a winner. But then she realized what she was doing and how shocked the man looked. Oh, no, was she just like Petyr? 

“Oh...”

His arms wrapped themselves around her and he held her up in the air. He was looking into her eyes as if they held all the secrets of the universe.

“Little bird,” he finally spoke out, his hand smoothing the hair away from her face. He was easily holding her in the air just with one arm. He was so strong and yet so gentle with her. Would he kiss her? Sansa wanted him to kiss her. She didn't know why, but she didn't care right now. She wanted to kiss him and he wanted it, too, didn’t he? 

But then they got interrupted by Jaime. “Hey, love birds, sorry to disappoint, but Sansa has forgotten to do the monkey bars and the inverted wall, so you’re disqualified. We’re the winners.”

“Who gives a damn?” Sandor rasped without even turning to the man. Sansa felt his heart hammering in his chest. Or was it her own?

“Well, I do,” Sansa heard Jaime say. “I want my kiss, too.”

“Stop it,” Brienne replied, annoyed.

“Little bird,” Sandor murmured, but this time it sounded more like a question. He looked hopeful and scared at the same time. Why didn’t he kiss her? 

“I’ve got a nice guest room, you know,” Jaime continued to speak.

What was he saying? Sansa’s eyes widened. Was he assuming...? Oh, no, she was behaving inappropriately. She couldn’t behave like that. Sansa put her hand on Sandor’s chest, pushing herself away from him, but his embrace only tightened. 

Lady and Stranger stood next to them, staring at their masters in obvious fascination. Stranger was happily swinging his tail, while Lady looked just utterly perplexed.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa murmured, blushing to her toes. “I...”

“Don’t,” Sandor replied breathlessly, but he let go of her and Sansa felt the ground under her feet again. She realized everybody was watching them. Sansa had embarrassed both herself and Sandor. How would she ever explain this to him?

“We won,” Jaime repeated.

“Congratulations,” Sandor nodded and looked at Sansa, then to the ground and then at Jaime again. He cleared his throat. “We’ll be going,” he announced.

“Don’t say,” Jaime smirked.

Stranger sniffed Sansa’s hand and licked it. Sansa didn’t really like having her hand so close to his enormous mouth, but the gesture was very sweet. The dog gave her an opportunity to focus on something else than her own embarrassment and all the people around her. Sansa didn’t know why she’d done such a thing, why she’d kissed Sandor. And he wasn’t talking to her. She’d kissed him and now he was silent. Was he angry? He didn’t say a single comforting thing since they’d kissed. He didn’t tell her he liked the kiss, he didn’t tell her he didn’t mind it, he was just silent. He hadn't wanted the kiss, had he? Sansa was like Petyr, forcing kisses upon unsuspecting people. This was so horrible.

Would Sansa read about her momentary lapse in the newspapers? What about her reputation? Sansa had kissed a man whom the journalists dubbed the ugliest man in Westeros, it would make a very juicy article. Benjen would be so disappointed with her, he’d say King’s Landing spoiled her.

Sansa didn’t think it possible, but they really walked home without a single word. Sandor hated her now. Sansa never cared about him, but now that their friendship was ruined, she wanted to cry. How could she have done something so awful? When he stopped in his tracks, Sansa braced herself for whatever he was going to say.

“There’s someone in you flat,” Sandor growled instead.

“Excuse me?”

“The lights are up,” Sandor pointed towards the Red Keep.

“Oh, no,” Sansa sobbed. This was too much, she wanted to go back to the North and be with her family and hug Arya in their sleep, she didn’t know how to deal with these things. “That’s Petyr.”

“Petyr? You mean Baelish? What’s Littlefinger doing in your flat?”

“He has the keys, he sometimes comes unexpectedly.”

Sandor’s expression darkened. “Why does he have your keys?”

“Well… He said it’s better if somebody else has a my keys in case I forget mine.”

“Why don’t you just keep a spare set of the keys in your office? Or with the Poole girl?”

“Well… Petyr was there when I was buying the flat and he took the keys on his own. He helped me so much, I didn’t want to be impolite.”

“And he came unannounced? Why would he do that?”

“I left abruptly today,” Sansa explained. “I think he wants to talk about it.”

“Did he do something to you, little bird?”

Sansa remembered the kiss and shivered. She couldn’t imagine being alone with Petyr again. “No, no.”

Strong hands gripped Sansa’s shoulders, shaking her. “Don’t lie to me, girl. What did he do?”

“Nothing, Sandor, really, he only kissed me and...” Sansa stopped herself. Gods, why did she say it? She looked like a loose woman now, kissing anyone.

Sandor’s face turned red and rage contorted his features. "Seven bloody hells,” he cursed. He took a few deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down. It didn’t seem to be working. 

“I didn’t want it!” Sansa sobbed. What would Sanddor think about her now? Sansa was a good girl, she didn’t want Sandor to judge her. This was such a horrible day. “I didn’t want it, Petyr just thought it was funny.”

“He kissed you against your will and now he came to your flat unannounced?”

“Yes, well, uncle Petyr is a jokester like this.”

“The fuck he is,” Sandor snapped. “Come,” he took her arm and dragged her in the building. He didn’t let go of her even in the elevator.

“Sandor, what are you doing?” Sansa asked, confused.

“Give me your keys, girl,” his voice didn’t allow for arguments. 

Sansa imagined what would Petyr say to seeing her like this with Clegane, but Sandor didn’t walk her to her flat. Instead he stopped in front of his own door and opened them. “You’ll wait here, little bird,” he pushed her inside, not ungently.

“But why, Sandor, what do you want to do?”

“Stay here. Make yourself at home,” he commanded harshly and slammed the door in her face.

“But...”

Stranger barked at her playfully, swinging his tail. Sansa swallowed. What would happen now? Stranger thought that it was the appropriate time to show the guests around the flat and Lady was excitedly following him everywhere. It was a nice place and very clean, just a little sad. Clegane had a large library, but other than that there were no decorations, no pictures, nothing. A few necessary pieces of furniture didn’t make a home according to Sansa. There were two newspapers featuring Sansa and Sandor’s pictures from the Brandon’s Day. There were no other papers or magazines than that and Sansa doubted Sandor was normally the man to buy these anyway. He’d bought it only because of the articles about himself, he’d been bothered by them much more than he let on.

There were several of Strangers toys, too. Actually, Stranger seemed to have a lot more personal possessions than his master. Even a hotel room would feel more like home than this. Why were there no photos? Didn’t Clegane have any family at all? Someone he cared for, he wanted to see every day? It pained Sansa to imagine how lonely the man was. She could decorate the flat for Sandor, make the place really cosy.

It didn’t take Sandor long to come back and when he did, he was looking much calmer.

“It’s settled, little bird, he won’t bother you again,” he told her almost softly.

“He won’t? What… what did Petyr say?”

“Not much. Everything is fine, little bird, you just have to tell me when something like this happens next time, alright? Even when I’m not around, just send me a message.”

“But what have you done with Petyr?” Sansa was imagining many scenarios, one worse than another. Sandor was huge, muscled like a bull and he was used to fighting. And he was somehow getting closer and closer to her.

“I’ve just explained him that his behaviour is unacceptable.”

Sansa swallowed. “How… how have you explained it to him?” she asked, afraid. 

“Clearly. You’re safe now, Sansa. You’re safe with me.” His body was too close now, almost touching her. He didn't look angry, quite the contrary. Was it possible he didn't hate her after all?

“You haven’t hurt him, have you?”

“Do I look like I could ever hurt anyone?”

“Well...”

“Don’t worry, little bird, I won’t give that piece of shit anything to use against us.”

Sansa could feel the warmth of his body, his breath fanning over her skin. She was sure he would kiss her. He'd kiss her, he'd silently let her know he wasn't angry about the kiss and they could remain friends. He would kiss her, surely he would.

But he didn’t. “You can go back to your flat, little bird,” he pressed the keys into her hand. “The Littlefucker won’t bother you there and neither will I.”

Sansa's face fell. This was wrong. He was supposed to kiss her, forgive her, not be rude to her again. He wanted to kiss her, she could feel it, she was sure of it. She laid her hands on his muscled chest. “I don’t want to go yet.”

He swallowed, looking at her like a lost little puppy. “You don't?” he asked breathlessly.

“No.”

He still owed her that kiss. Sansa knew she was being silly, but she had to be sure that the kiss she'd given him wasn't unwelcome, she wasn't like Petyr. She could see the longing in Sandor's eyes, so why didn’t he kiss her? He only cupped her face with his large hand, stroking her cheek with his finger. Sansa could feel his heart hammering under her palm. What was he waiting for? Didn't he fancy her at all? She smiled at him encouragingly and then he finally, finally bent down and touched his lips to hers before quickly straightening up again, his expression questioning and full of wonder. It was quick, but it was a kiss nonetheless. He’d kissed her! He liked her! He was growling at her all the time, but it didn’t fool Sansa. Everybody said she was pretty and good and Sandor liked her, too. She took a step back and smiled victoriously. He liked her after all. She was nothing like Petyr, Sandor had wanted that kiss, too.

But Sandor didn’t let her take another step. Instead he pulled her roughly to himself as if afraid she would disappear if he didn't hold her tightly enough. His breathing was harsh, his eyes were wild and terrifying. What happened to him? Why had his expression change so suddenly? Sansa wanted to say something polite to calm the man down, but he didn’t give her a chance and he captured her lips in another kiss, a completely different one. All the hesitation suddenly gave way to a fierce and uncontrollable need. Sandor plundered her mouth, one hand at the base of her neck,holding her to him. He was kissing her, crushing her, touching her everywhere. His body was incredibly warm, his mouth demanding. It was odd, very odd, and Sansa definitely shouldn't be doing this. He wasn't Joffrey, he wasn't Loras, he wasn't even pretty. But it felt wonderful, how could it be so wonderful, when she was kissing such a beast of a man? It was suddenly all too much for Sansa. Her knees went weak, so she quickly wrapped her arms around Sandor’s neck. 

“Sansa,” he moaned. “My love,” he peppered her face with sweet little kisses and Sansa giggled at the sensation. He looked at her, grinned wickedly and then he lifted her up in the air. Sansa yelped in surprise and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was clinging to him inappropriately, but it was practical and Sandor didn’t seem to mind. He groaned and pinned her against the wall. “You have no idea...” he nibbled her neck and trailed his lips up to nuzzle her ear. “So long… I’ve been… so long,” he panted incoherently. “Little bird… My little bird,” he whispered in adoration and brought his lips to hers again.

It was perfect. Sansa didn't really know what she was doing and why, but she felt as if nothing bad could ever happen to her again. Sandor was brave and gentle and strong and Sansa gladly kissed him back. He was such an amazing man.


End file.
